Cure for the Depressed
by My-Room-Is-My-Retreat
Summary: Hermione didn't have the perfect childhood like everyone thought. She plans on keeping all of this a secret but when the school starts a group therapy session, she finds a cure for her depression. Dramione.
1. Beginning

Hey, I know it's been a long time! The other stories I wrote when I was younger and have greatly improved my style and spelling! =D Seeing as how I always skips the Author's Notes all the important things to know are

Story is after the Battle

Hermione is 18 and every one ranges around that age

I did not have a editor so if spelling mistakes or sentences that don't make sense just let me know in a review or Private Message

If something wasn't in here (*look up*) then you weren't supposed to know it yet

This is a disclaimer... ;)

I looked down at the watch on my wrist out of habit. I was glad for it though.

"Damn" She whispered to herself. She was late for class.

As she was running to class, she thought about why she had become late. She was doing it again. She was lost in thought. Hermione was trying to get herself out of the habit of thinking to much. It was only September 21st meaning that she was still getting herself out off her habits of the summer.

Summers were just dreadful to her. Since she was never enrolled in the local public school she had no friends that even remembered her anymore. Because of the random magic attacks even the friends she had in grade school fell away. The whole time Hermione relied on the letters from Harry and Ron. No matter how small or completely non-personal the letters were; they kept her going.

She was diagnosed as clinically depressed the summer between fifth and sixth year. Her parents had no idea what to do with her, they were already dealing with their own grief. They tried to help, but in the end Hermione just started faking it. Sometimes, she could actually believe that she was OK. That life could really just be that simple for her. Although, it didn't help her, just made her recede into herself more. What didn't help her was that other than the doctors that made her parents notice, no one else could tell. _And the only reason my parents notice was because I was admitted into the hospital, _she thought bitterly. Mentally slapping herself for going down the Blame-My-Parents path again. _Even though it is my fault. _Hermione's parents had had a divorce in fifth and sixth year, that was one of the reasons she was diagnosed as depressed. Ron wouldn't understand what a divorce even was and whenever she brought it up parents in general to Harry he flinched. It just felt insensitive. And since they weren't at her house for the summer and lived at Hogwarts during the school year. Then the accident happened...

Gladly, she arrived at her classroom door; freeing her mind of the disheartening thoughts. Taking a micro-second of a moment to prepare herself for her normal facade, she pushed the door open. The disapproving face of Professor McGonagoll staring up at her.

"Wrong classroom, Ms. Granger. Pay more attention to your schedule next time." She said in her normal icy tone. Without saying anything, Hermione just closed the door. She was cursing in her head for not paying closer attention. Of course! She remembered now that she had look at her Tuesday schedule instead of Wednesday, which was today. Her eyes widened. She was supposed to be Herbology right now. Quickly glancing at her watch as she began to speed walk, she saw that she was now five minutes late. Which doesn't sound bad except the green rooms were literally across the castle. Clutching her messenger bag so that it wouldn't swing, she began running.

Fifteen minutes later, she saw the green houses and slowed to a walk. Trying to slow down her heart beat so that she wouldn't make a bigger scene than she already was. Heart still pounding, she opened the thick metal door to see the whole classroom look up at her.

"I'm very sorry I am tarty Professor Sprout." She was able to squeeze out enough oxygen to make that sentence.

"Very well. Twenty points off for being late, seeing as that's how many minutes you were late. Now sit down so I can return to our review of the Graphorns. Who can tell me, where they originated from?" Hermione spent that whole class trying to regain all the points she lost. She preferred to not hear the Gryffindors complaining about her. Again.

She spent that night in the common room for as long as possible. Nights were merciless for her. The emptiness stuck to her until she fell asleep. Because of the nightmares she had randomly, but often, she didn't want to go to sleep. So either she could stay awake and feel miserable right then; or she could go to sleep, spend an hour getting to sleep, wake up after each nightmare, then feel tired the next day. She usually switched off so she could not burnout so quickly. Also the sleeping draught that she made every month really did help.

"Hermione. 'ey!"

"Huh?" She flushed she realized he was trying to talk to her. She was lost in thought about how much she was dreading going to sleep that night. "Oh sorry. What were you saying?"

"Are you doing ok? Just seem out of it." Ron began to mumble the last bits. She wanted to roll your eyes and smile at the same time; he was always emotionally awkward. I guess it added to his "charm". However cute, she didn't want him catching on.

"Yeah was I just thinking about how many causalities was in the Gorfiac Wars in 1785. Do you know the answer?" Ha. I congratulated on my quick question even though you could have been in that class for one month and would have the answer to that question memorized. She mentally rolled her eyes at Ron deer-in-the-head-lights look. She patted his hand in a mock affectionate way. "It's ok I'll look it up".

Ron laughed. "That's Hermione's for ya! She would rather up life in a book than live it." He thought that it was really funny and was looking around. Slightly disappointed when he realized that Harry was to join in for their favorite game of Tease Hermione. But she couldn't take it tonight. It just been to hard of a week.

"One Ronald, that make sense by only a little bit." She began to tear up which used to be unusual, but a year and a half of crying in her closet with a hand over her mouth so that she didn't make any noise had changed that. "And second, don't wait up for me to come back." She tried her best to glare at him through her tears.

"Come on Herms,don't take it so seriously. I didn't mean it."

"Even if that was sincere, I wouldn't have believed it." She stormed out while trying to stuff the book in her bag so that she could free her hands. She needed them to wipe her tears away.

** {****} **

She had spent the night in the library... Again. It was really simple actually. She had done it a few times. Nobody would come to check to see if people had actually stayed to spend _more _time with the books that had been categorized as homework. She just hid in one of the stalls of the girls restroom until she heard Madame Pince's normal locking spell. After that she would wait five minutes, then move to her normal corner by the muggle books. There were two reasons why she loved it. One, there was usually less people in this section. Two, it felt like home.

Her parents were gone so much that she after her nanny put her and her brother to bed she would crawl out and read the fairy tales to him. They used to pretend that they were the characters of Peter Pan. Even when he was nine and she was fourteen they would play that game. She was also Wendy and he was always Peter, the younger brother. He used to whisper in her ear that she was too smart for a Prince Charming, she needed a Peter Pan that would take her out of her world of books and show her some fun.

Whenever, she could barely stand not having him anymore, she would pull out her copy that he had given her. He had given it to her as a Sweet Sixteen present. He had saved up money from his dog walking job to buy her this himself. The best part of it was what he wrote on the inside.

I'll always fly with you – Dominic

Some days she couldn't bear to look at it. It hurt so much. She carried the guilt with her everywhere. It was her fault. Everything was her fault.

Review and let me know what you think! Be nice too :)


	2. Group Assignments

(* Disclaimer *) ;)

Cure for the Depressed

Chapter 2

Hermione felt like the world was perfect at the moment. She still had yet to open her eyes. One foot was sticking out of the comforter and when she pulled it back in the warmth quickly spread and she had a sweet release from the nippy cold. It wouldn't be impossible to get out of bed though because the sun was peaking through the window. Hermione thanked it for not flooding the room, that would have woken her up as effectively as an angry, loud parent barging through a room; which anyone who ever had parents experienced this at one point.

But the moment didn't last. It never did. The sun went behind the shadows and she realized that it was the first day of a new month. Meaning that her parents would send her a letter. Individually of course. They never did anything together anymore. They couldn't even bear to go to the divorce office on the same day. Hermione rolled over to stop the process of thinking about the situation her parents had put themselves, and her, in. Her wand read September 21, 6:48. She did the math in her head, it was about one month until the anniversary of Dominic's death. She felt like her chest caved in with the grief. _It's never going to feel any different. How long can I continue like this before I give up? _

At the moment the only think that could do anything close to helping is a shower. So she grudgingly pulled herself out of the warm haven of her bed. After she had applied her facade she headed downstairs. It's weird how when you don't want to smile, and you do it doesn't feel like smiling, it feels like you are stretching your face in an unpleasant way.

It didn't surprise her when Ron and Harry didn't look at her when she sat down. _It wasn't like they were ignoring her, _she told herself, _they were just in the middle of a conversation. _She wished that she believed that. OK_, it's not like I'm not being reasonable they've been busy. Soon they'll ask me to hangout again. It's not like I've been the most open person. _

"Hello." Hermione went back to using more formal terms because of the awkward stage in their friendship at the moment. Ron waved his hand at her as a reply and Harry looked at her and gave her a small smile. They continued on their conversation, Hermione wasn't really sure what they were talking about. She just tuned them out and focused on making a piece of toast for herself. She had put some strawberry jam on, and was about to put it in her mouth when she realized that she didn't want it at all. The more she debated wither or not she should eat the toast, the more nauseated she felt; resulting in her just putting the piece of toast on the white place and pushing it away. This act went unnoticed by Ron and Harry. At the moment, she was glad that they didn't notice it because they might have asked about it.

"Oh hey Hermione, you missed the announcement this morning." Ron stated

"Oh. What was it?"

"Because of the war last year, and with everyone being affected by it, they've started a group sessions for the students. It's mandatory for all fifth years and above and optional for fourth years and under." Harry chimed in.

"You have _got _to be kidding me." She groaned. Some of her previous attitude was coming out. For a moment, she felt like herself; just complaining like a normal teenage girl with her friends. "Are they really going to make us do this? I'm sure some people don't need it."

"Actually, I think it's a really great idea." Snapped Harry. "Some people could use it. One of those people is you, Hermione. Look we are going through the same thing so it's disrespectful for you to be trying so hard to get attention when some other people actually lost something. You lost no one in the war! I'm tired of seeing you try to get everyone to feel sorry for you. Stop acting like a bitch." Harry had started yelling at the end of his rant. People from across the tables were looking at the trio. Who would have thought that those three would ever have any problems with each other.

Tears started building up in her eyes and were now falling down her face. But they quickly turned into tears of anger as she processed all the things he had said. Harry hadn't yelled loud enough so that the whole room had noticed, but he had definitely caught the attention of the surrounding people. The incident would surely be all over the school by the end of the day. That was one of the reasons that she strained to contain her anger and not let the whole school know what was going on.

She leaned forward and looked him straight in his eyes. And very clearly said "do NOT act like you know everything, Harry Potter. Because you have no idea what is going on around you. When you open your eyes and see anybody beside yourself, come talk to me. Until then," She raised her voice, letting the rush of anger build in her. She hadn't felt this alive in awhile and she was on a roll, "stay the hell away from me!" She snatched her bag and stormed out.

She was racing up the stairs, not because she was just trying to get away but also because she still had adrenaline in her system making her blood pound through her veins, when someone called out to her.

"That was quiet a scene. Who knew you could pull it off."

Hermione almost wanted to keep her blood pounding because she loved feeling alive. She was afraid that once the rush was over that she would curl back into her depression. The liberation from her feelings was intoxicating, even if it did mean that she probably just lost her two best friends. _Oh God what have I done? They aren't going to talk to me again. Even if they do, it will never be the same. _All the sudden, she remembered her knife that she carried around for safety reasons. Well, that's what she told people. It served another purpose for her.

"What do you want. Malfoy?" He started walking up the stairs. His platinum blond hair was catching rays of sunlight coming through the windows giving it a more gold tone. His skin was like a porcelain doll's, a creamy white color. His white shirt looked like it was made out of clouds, _probably pure cotton that git, _she thought.

"I wanted to let you know that I don't want to listen to any kind of whiny crap. No body cares about your odd threesome feelings about Potty Head and the Weasel King or how you miss ol' mummy's perfect home baked cookies. So just keep it to yourself." _Threesome feelings? What the hell?_

"Malfoy, what are you going on about?"

"Hah, so you don't know. This is rich. I would think a teacher's pet like you would have put the fliers up. Go look at the board, pet." Hermione glared at him as if she could burn his disgustingly perfect skin off.

"I am no ones pet. Least of all yours. So pick a new name."

Draco leaned in close to her. He had stopped climbing the stairs when he was on the step under hers, making their eyes level. She didn't move, not knowing what he was going to do.

He leaned in right next to face, and whispered in her ear. "Has anyone ever told you that you're cheeks flush when you're mad." He pulled back and walked down the stairs, and disappeared through the hallways that lead to the Slytherin's common room.

Hermione thought about two things from what had just happened. One, he had watched her enough to notice what happens when she gets mad. _It wouldn't take much to notice that though. Almost all of interactions, provoke me to anger...But he still noticed. _Two was that his cologne smelled amazing. This just made her mad. She didn't have to remind herself of all the things that he had done to her or how he had used other people. She chalked it off to him just messing with her head.

Suddenly remembering what he had said about the board, Hermione started making her way to her common room. On her way up there, she thought about how Harry had just exploded on her. Maybe he was paying more attention to her than she thought. That made her think that he had noticed that something was wrong with her and he had ignored it. Now she was really as alone as she felt. The only difference is that everyone would know about it now. Lovely.

"Amicitia" Hermione stepped through the door to the comforting familiarity of the room. She crossed the room and immediatly saw the new piece of paper magically stuck to the board.

Therapy Group Room Assignments

Room 1 Room 2 Room 3

Ginny Weasley Dean Thomas Cho Chang

Pansy Parkinson Padma Patil Seamus Finnigan

Luna Lovegood Ernie Macmillan Mary Ann Smith

Lavendar Brown Hannah Abbott Cormac McLagggen

Andrew Kirke Rebecca Harrison Susan Bones

Neville Longbottom Ron Weasley Vincent Crabbe

Gregory Goyle Astoria Greengrass Hermione Granger

Harry Potter Blaise Zabini Draco Malfoy

All students meet at the Quidditch Pitch, Wednesday 10 AM.

Hermione closed her eyes and banged her head against the wall. Not only did she have McLaggen but she also had Malfoy. She was never going to be able to say anything in the "safe haven of trust". Hermione had gone to two different therapist and had been in four different groups. Therapists always zoned in on her. They could tell by her attitude that she had something to hide. Even when she had tried, they were never able to help; so she gave up.

_Well At least I have five days to prepare myself, _she thought bitterly.

Btdubs, "Amicitia" means friendship in Latin. I thought it fit for the Gryffindors.

As said last chapter, I do not have an editor and I hate rereading stuff (Don't ask why because I don't know) so if you find anything **politely **let me know in a review or private message. Ok!

Review and let me know what you think =)

**Lovies, **

**My-Room-Is-My-Retreat**


	3. Meetings at the Quidditch Pitch

**Sorry it's been so long guys! Hopefully I'll get back on track. **

**I had forgotten some of the details, so I had to go back and reread my chapters. If there is anything that I looked... Sorry! And enjoy. **

The five days had passed with nothing of importance. Hermione was getting into a routine. Wake up, five minute shower, stare at breakfast, classes, skip lunch for studying time in the library, classes, eat til she was nauseous at dinner, studying until she fell asleep. She would read books in between walks too, leaving it impossible to think about anything personal at all. Especially her brother.

It was the morning of the first therapy session. She actually stalled walking down. Partly because she didn't want to go to the session and partly because she didn't want to have to walk with anyone. She had five minutes to walk all the way down to the Quidditch pitch from the castle. She quickened her speed so that she would only be a little late. She could see that most everyone was already there.

Hearing the soles of shoes behind her, she sneaked a glace behind her to see a flash of fluorescent blond hair and a green tie. She only let her eyes linger for a split moment until she recognized that it was Malfoy behind her. Not wanting to engage in conversation, least of all Malfoy, she hurried along, trying to pretend that she hadn't seen him. He seemed to not want to talk too because usually he teased her when she was in his vicinity. If she knew better she would have guessed that he had had another late night with _another _conquest, or girl as most people called them. She only figured that because of a conversation she over heard in the library between two Slytherin gossips.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the field to find that they were the last two. Also that everyone had been waiting on them, so trying to just slip in unnoticed was impossible. Headmaster McGonagall was standing in the middle with a few other people, she noticed they were adults, talking on the side. The rest of the students were all packed together on the stadium facing the teachers.

"Nice of you to join us, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy. It would do you well to arrive on time next time. Take a seat." She knew that she should feel guilty... but she didn't. She found a seat on the end next to a random Hufflepuff who was busy writing in what looked like a diary.

"Attention students, as you know the battle last year was tragic." Headmaster McGonagall was trying not let the emotion be evident in her voice; but as someone who had experienced the same event, she could tell. Flashes of the memories she had tried to suppress bubbled up to the surface again. The whispered fears that she had tried to forget flashed back across her thoughts; spreading through her body like a plague. Feeling the affects of the normal panic that would arise at the mention of the battle, she started counting. Counting the chairs, the people she could see, how many students of each house that was there, how many clouds that she could see. This was another one of the ways that she handled the panic attacks. She continued this while she McGonagall went on listing the reasons for the forced shrink sessions.

"I will call out the group leader, who will identify themselves, then the students who will be in that group. As I call your name, please stand next to your group leader and await further instructions.

"Group one. Group leader is Megan Buckner..." McGonagall continued, listing everyone that was in the group. Slowly, more and more students left their seats to find their groups. Hermione noted all the leaders, group two had Marcus Brookes and her group had Daisy Sweeten. Hermione smirked inside about her name. _She must have had hippie parents, because honestly out of all the flower names, Daisy? Really? _

As she got closer to her "Group Leader" her suspicions were confirmed about the hippie parents. Just in the way that she dressed, Hermione could tell that she was going to be going on and on about the energy of life and balancing the inner and hidden emotions. There was a "Circle of Trust" speech coming up in the near future.

Daisy had dirty blond hair that was delicately braided around her head that combined to the traditional braid down her back. Her blue eyes twinkled as if already getting excited about the sessions. She had on a soft gray tank top on with a tan skirt that had a flower design on it, all of that under a lavender cloak. _All soft colors,_ Hermione noted._ I am not going to listen what Miss Sweeten had to say, _she scoffed in her head, _But if I'm was going to make it through the rest of the year , and the inevitable requirements that were going to be coming, I better be prepared. _

"Hello everyone." Daisy's voice was sickly soft. "I'm Daisy Sweeten. You may call me Daisy. No need for formalities. To start off today, I would like to find _at least_ one thing that you enjoy, appreciate, or love about nature on our walk back." She paused, waiting to see if everyone was paying attention. "When we get to our room, we'll go around the circle and share what it is."

Quietly, they followed their leader out of the stadium. Daisy had talked the longest of the leaders, so the other groups had already gone. _Lucky them, _she thought.

Everyone was shuffling quietly after Daisy. Usually they would have all been chatting but the idea of a shrink had apparently spooked them. When she looked up briefly from the ground, she saw that McLaggen was developing one of his famous stupid grins.

"Hey Ms. Daisy. I have something that I'm really appreciating from back here."

"Oh really?" She had one of those annoying voices that would go up an octave when she asked a question. Hermione had to suppress a cringe. "And what would that be?"

"That nice little butt of yours." Him and his friends started to laugh and snigger, while the rest of the class' eyebrows shot up. Hermione started laughing in her head. _He did NOT just say that. No one is ever going to let him forget this one. _

Miss Sweeten started to blush. "Mr. McLaggen that is completely inappropriate. 50 points from Gryffindor. I will be talking to your Head about punishment."

Since it was only the first day of the "group help", their "team leader" didn't try to go into all of the emotional stuff. The whole time was really spent in going around the circle that they had been instructed to sit in, and introduce themselves and say their piece of nature that they had "loved".

Hermione could tell that most of these kids were bluffing. The surprising part was Malfoy's turn. After stating his name, age, and House, he said that he liked the clouds. For some reason that comment stuck with Hermione. The look on his face had shocked her too. She was still analyzing what emotion was behind that face when her turn came; she was completely unprepared. Continuing with her plan though, she pretended to take the assignment seriously.

" Hi, I'm Hermione Granger. Eighteen years old. Gryffindor. As for what I really love (she could help but make her voice turn towards a more whiny vapid sound), it's probably the flowers. There are so many flowers and they can express so many different things. I just love to see them. It brightens my day."

Hermione remembered thinking that she probably over did it a little bit. Especially because Cho Chang, Susan Bones, and Seamus Finnigan were all discretely giving her strange looks. While Malfoy was _actually _trying to hold in a laugh.

She shared a smile with herself at the ridiculousness of their team leader. It made her think of a game that her and Dominic had played once.

Before her parents divorced, they tried therapy. After two months of that, the therapist (third one that her parents had tried.) suggested bringing the kids in. Later in the meeting Hermione and Dominic were told that they were brought because their parents were having a hard time admitting that they had a problem. And that if their kids were there, it would make the situation more real.

Dominic had whispered in her ear halfway through the session that Mrs. Stacey, the therapist, sounded like a mix between a commercial for Dr. Phil and the back of a cereal box. So every time she said something that they had heard on Dr. Phil or said any food related words, they would try to secretly pinch each other. That was the last day the Grangers went to her office.

For just a millisecond, Hermione thought to herself that she should ask Dominic if he remembered that day. Horror set in as she realized what she had thought. The air in her lungs evaporated. She started choking as her was trying to breathe and cry at the same time. It didn't matter how many times she cried about him, there was always more tears.

She had taken the long route to the Common Room; the one that went through all the back hallways. Suddenly glad of the fact that no one went that way, she slumped down against the wall. Hugging herself, Hemione bawled.

Finally, once the tears began to stop, Hermione started to stand up. She didn't know what to do next. Every one else was at lunch. Wanting to avoid everyone, not only because her face was all red and puffy, but because she wasn't talking to Harry and Ron. Going to lunch would have been completely awkward. Also she wasn't hungry.

Grabbing her messenger bag, she slung it over her shoulder. Thinking that no one would be there, she headed towards the Quidditch Pitch.

She was proven to be wrong when she actually arrived at the Pitch. There was a solitary figure flying around and around. Disappointed that she would have to find somewhere else, Hermione tried to walk away without being seen. It didn't work.

She felt the air stir and looked up from her book. _Of course it's Malfoy. Because the universe hates me. _

"Come to spy on me, Granger?"

"Yeah right. Like I give a damn about you." He laughed.

"That's true. Tell me Granger, what flower would express that?"

"You can't talk Mr. I-Love-The-Clouds."

"You and I know that we were both BS-ing in there."

"I don't think you were." She lost her haughty tone. _What in Heaven's name possessed me to say that?" _

He just looked at her. Not denying or affirming her statement. Feeling uncomfortable with him staring at her, she continued the conversation. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"I'm not on the team anymore." She was shocked. So shocked that she forgot who she was talking to.

"What? Why?"

He shrugged "Didn't want too. Besides, I think to win a game, the whole team would have to be talking to each other. You know what they say, communication is key."

"That's a muggle quote." She shook her head. "Why are you not talking to the team?"

"Why would you assume that it's me who's not talking to the team?" His eyes sparkled with amusement. Her face started to heat up. Her defenses kicked in.

"Because you generally are a prick."

"Well according to Potter you're a bitch."

She tensed up. "I was stupid to think that we could actually have a normal conversation. You know what? You can just stay out of my personal life. It's none of your business." She started to turn to walk away. Wishing that she had said something that would have stung more.

"I think when you're shouting about your personal life in the Great Hall, it is my business."

"At least I'm not dealing with my life in court." She was referring to the day in court. Draco's Hearing actually. He was giving his testament, when his father had started shouting at him that he was worthless. After a whole string of adjectives that a parent should never use while talking about their child, the attorney had managed to subdue Lucius. Draco had stood up and calmly told him that he didn't need his approval on his life anymore and that he never wanted to see him again.

Malfoy recoiled. No matter how mad she was, Hermione immediately felt guilty. She had no right to bring that up. She was only there that day because she was asked to make sure Draco told the truth about his time in Hogwarts. Hermione could see the effect her statement made on him. His fists clenched and he began to breathe heavily. He opened his mouth to make a retort, but she cut him off.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." If it had been any other person, she would have gone on and on about how sorry she was.

"Thank you." He spoke quietly but strongly. Hermione felt that no matter what she said, the damage was already done and that talking would just make it worse. Instead, she nodded her head in acknowledgment and left.

She was almost out of the Pitch when he called out to her. "Granger!" She turned around.

"Don't believe Potter." The words had to sink in for a minute before she responded. All she gave him was a small sad smile that didn't reach her eyes.

**Yet again. Sorry that took so long. I had some of this chapter written for awhile and just finished it today. I tried to not make Malfoy and Granger OOC. The reason they had that conversation was because it was after the war and they are kinda both loners. Finding comfort in whatever they can. Thanks. Let me know what you think. :) **

**MRIMR**

**(My Room Is My Retreat.) **


	4. After the Party

Chapter 4  
>So yeah, it's crazy. It's ben about two years since I posted but I have been slowly working on this chapter since the beginning of school so I hope it's a good one.<p>

Also I made a mistake. Crabbe is dead and so I'm switching him with a made up character. Stephan Welsh. Sorry Crabbe!

It's time for the second session with Daisy. They all had group sessions every two weeks. Hermione just shoved her headphones further into her ears. Ever since Dumbledore had died someone else had been doing to spells for the castle and those were much more breakable. Especially with the stone wall between her and the boys she needed something to keep her going. Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper We'll be able to fly... don't fear the reaper Baby I'm your man... Something about the way that song sounded... It felt like listening to that song glued a tiny part of her soul back together.  
>Hermione opened her eyes to face to maroon bed sheets that were currently on top of her face. She sighed... <em>God it's another day<em>...Her hands were laying on her small pooch on her stomach. It wasn't much but it used to be larger. Dominic used to say that it was her central warming unit. She knew that she was looking back with rose-colored glasses but they really did have a good relationship. There was enough of an age difference that they didn't fight all the time but enough to keep things healthy.  
>She ran her hands over her protruding hip bones<em>. I need to put my clothes on. I really don't want to do this again<em>. Hermione tried smiling. In her own hazy world, she was mostly okay. Her feelings didn't suffocate her.  
>All of the sudden she had a sudden urge for a bagel. A toasted bagel with cream cheese... at the moment she thought that if she could eat that warm gooey yummy circle of carbs and fat she would be happy again. Soon she found herself with her favorite pair of jeans on a red, fuzzy short sleeved shirt on. Feeling particularly muggle today she ditched her school robe as some people did in the morning. She would have time after her breakfast to come and get her stuff. Walking down the halls she was enjoying the feeling of lightness. Without her heavy bags throwing her back out of alignment, she felt twenty pounds lighter. She was practically skipping down the halls with happiness. Like she was happy and beautiful and healthy. <em>Wow I can do this. I can make this work. I can get top marks in school, I can make new friends, and eventually make up with Ron and Harry. We're better than this and it won't last forever.<br>_Subtly she changed her song to 1985 by Bowling For Soup. It was such a fun song, despite the lyrics, that she just smiled at the familiar sound. She couldn't contain her happiness. Wiggling her hips and shaking her head a little. Her soul burst with sunshine. Walking through the doors she felt like was the sun itself. Before dealing with where she was going to sit for her short meal, she had to walk past the Slytherins. She held her breathe. _Please don't ruin this for me... it'll last for five more minutes please let me enjoy them.  
><em>"Hey Granger" Pansy's voice was loud enough to beat the music in her hears. Out of reflex, she turned her head towards the snobby little brat.  
>"I'm surprised that you came back in here after your fight with your boyfriend. You know, I think Filch and Ms. Norris have an extra seat if you need it." She cackled along with her friends in the high yippy way you would expect from a Chihuahua.<br>She glanced around at all the Slytherins that were staring at her. One of the faces stood out. Draco's eyes flashed towards her, catching the light, for a brief second. He looked when he was going to open his mouth but she didn't need back up.  
>"At least they would be better company than you." With that her good mood disappeared. Turning around she stormed out of there, her wavy hair snapping around her face like angry snakes.<p>

Everyone filed into Classroom 445 where Daisy was already waiting for them. Left foot. Right foot. Pain. After breakfast everything had gone downhill. Her first class was Potions with the Hufflepuffs. Snape was just degrading as ever and she overheard Ron and Harry spend all class period talking about which girls they should ask out for the Hogsmead weekend. All of this came crashing down and she had another panic attack. She left History of Magic to breathe. She remembered dashing through the hallways running with her adrenaline. There was no way that she could keep breathing if something didn't change. What was with today? Did everything just decide to explode all at once? She went to the abandoned bathroom and pulled out her knife. No feelings anymore. Nothing to stop her. She had dropped her pants and imbedded the knife three quick times across her skin.  
>"Great! Now that we are all seated, let's start." Today Daisy donned a pastel green blouse with brown slacks and a soft blue robe. A material representation of the earth. "Miss Granger go ahead and take a seat."<br>"Right." Oh this is going to hurt. 'Why are you throwing yourself a pity party? You deserve this.' Somewhere deep in her mind a bitter voice said. The cuts were deep enough to hurt and high enough up her leg that sitting Indian-style on the floor was painful.  
>"How is everyone doing today? Anything to mention?" Daisy prodded. The awkward silence resumed. "Ok. Well today I want to talk about habits. Does anyone have any good or bad habits?" Cho Chang piped up that when she was little she used to chew her hair. No one said anything after that.<br>"Alright. We're a little shy today. Let go around the circle and each say one. Cho Chang already went so lets start with her and go around. Draco it's your turn."  
>"Well..." He stalled not knowing what to say. "I used to climb trees."<br>Everyone went around and then it came to Hermione. She transitioned into the new character that she was in these meetings. "Haha well I used to dance around the room and pretend I was a ballerina." She raised her voice a little to match her preppy charade.  
>"Well you are the end of the circle so why don't we use you as an example." Yup, this is how is begins. "Why did you end this habit?" Daisy's sweet smile was sickly so.<br>"Because I grew up."

"You ready for the match?" Pavarti asked Hermione as she was applying her make up. Hermione suddenly missed the way that Lavender and Pavarti would flutter around the room. However when Lavender was alive Hermione just looked forward to the moments right after the girls left. That still silence. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side.  
>"Yeah, I'm gonna go. What about you?"<br>"Yeah. I'm going." As Pavarti looked down, Hermione's heart clenched; aching for her friend. "There isn't anything else to do. I also know enough about Quidditch to like it." Hermione gave a small laugh, and they fell into silence till the other girl left.  
>Hermione sighed. This feeling was crushing. She sighed again. She strained her arm far enough to grab her favorite quill that was resting on a pile of books at the foot of her bed next to her personal notebook. Starting on the poem, she wrote feverishly till with a large breathe she was finished. Another dark poem had slipped from her head onto the paper. When she looked back on what she had written it surprised her. It didn't at all convey how she felt inside. In a flash of anger, she ripped the page out of the book and shredded it. Once the anger left her, Hermione summoned the picture she had of her and Dominic. He was one of those beautiful mutations that had brown hair and blue eyes. His six year old face was round with wind-nipped pink cheeks. This was her favorite picture from that photo shoot because of what she had done right before the photo was taken.<p>

"It's cold Mommy." Dominic whined.  
>"I know baby but Mommy really wants these pictures okay? Grandma has been pestering me for weeks that she wants a 'good picture of her grandbabies to frame. Not like the ones from last Christmas.'" You could tell she was frustrated with her mother-in-law because her imitation landed on the derogatory side. "When we get home I'll get the nanny to make you some hot chocolate, how about that?" She promised. The little boy nodded his head with the thought of that chocolately goodness.<br>"I'm still cold though." He grumbled dishearteningly.  
>"I can help with that." Hermione piped up. She pounced on him, tickling the ever living daylights out of him. His bubbly golden laughter, shrieking really, swam through the trees sending the birds fluttering away grumpily. Hermione swore she saw some of them turn their heads back at the pair and send a disapproving look not unlike Professor McGonagall's.<br>They were at the neighborhood park for Christmas photos. Their uncle, the family photographer, was visiting for the holidays, and Deborah Granger was not going to let an opportunity like that slip through her fingers. The group had already suffered the cold for about 45 minutes; they just had the kids left.  
>"Oh 'mione stop! I can't breathe." She released him from her clutches. He quickly scrambled up the rock that they had been positioned on, and jumped like a monkey onto her back. While he clung to her neck, she slid her arms under his knees to make sure he didn't fall off.<br>"Oh you really got me now." She smirked sarcastically. Looking up at him, she grinned. Once the photos were developed and delivered, she discovered that one and immediately fell in love with it.

Snapping back to the present, Hermione ran her thumb over the still photo, aching to hug her precious best friend.  
>Sigh.<br>_The match starts in five minutes. I better leave now._  
>She found herself thinking about one of the times that her and Dominic had fought. It was over something really stupid. She felt awful about yelling at him so she built him a blanket fort, something he was always begging to do, and they had a Disney Movie Marathon. That's how she found herself running right into someone. The person had stopped in the middle of the walk way! Since she was walking on the left-hand side, she ran into him with the right half of her body.<br>The boy whipped around at the impact to see Hermione wince while clutching her hip. Draco's gray-blue eyes studied her actions. Hermione noticed this, so trying to overcome the pain of her scabs reopening and grunted, "Wow you're really boney. You should gain some weight." With her distraction, she forgot to be cold to him. He paused for a moment, waiting for her to look at him, "I could say the same for you." In a flash her eyes met his. She broke this connection. "I'm fine... Really. I'm fine."  
>"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" Limping past him, she tried to shake off the anxious feeling that just washed over her.<br>The sound of a lion roar welcomed her as she approached the Quidditch field. Apparently the Gryffindors had scored because that was Luna's hat going off. It surprised her that she could hear it over the crowd, but she probably magnified the sound. Hermione shoved her way through the sea of red and gold clad students in Gryffindor fan section.  
>A long, painful hour later, Hermione was watching the game through her fingers. Ravenclaws were ahead by twenty points. The bookworms in that team really helped in these situations because of their killer strategies. Usually the Gryffindors just used speed and legal brute force; however, Hermione knew that Harry and Ron had a plan for this kind of play. According to them, the Irish Bagpipe Banshees' seeker Harry Dunham had done something with the goal keeper and the snitch once. And sure enough, a few minutes later something with the goal keeper and the snitch happened. Thinking about how long ago that conversation was hurt her. It had been weeks since she had made any kind of contact with her two boys. With that move the Gryffindors won the game. Another roar burst through the screams and cheers. Soon the thundering of running students overpowered the cries of jubilation. Hermione held back though, the warm flame of unity eased her heart enough to make a smile flicker across her face. She almost tried to tell Ron and Harry that she was going back up to the castle but then she remembered that they were in a kind of purgatory with their relationship.<br>"You heading back up, Hermione?"  
>"Hey Neville, yeah. I'm going back up. What did you think of the game?"<br>"Oh it was brilliant. Perfect weather too. I don't know who had more fun, the team or the fans." She chuckled with him. They walked together in silence for a little.  
>"Hey you going to the party?"<br>"Oh is the team throwing a victory party?"  
>"Yup. It's in the Room of Requirement. Everyone is invited. I think even the Ravenclaws are coming."<br>"Haha wow. That really shows how things have changed." Suddenly they were reminded of the war. Being away from the noise had brought a new meaning to quiet. As the two of them walked together, she felt a moment of acceptance. Maybe everything will be okay.

BANG.  
>Draco stopped in his tracks. It was after curfew so obviously he didn't want to be caught out. If he didn't tow the line this year he would be kicked out for sure. McGonagall had pushed for his return this year but Draco knew she had to convince the school board to allow his return. So he was trying. Really trying. Partly because he didn't want to make McGonagall a liar, but he also wanted to prove something to himself. In a full circle he was back to the panic at being discovered. The person around the corner was laughed. Not a true I-think-something-is-funny but more like a maniac kind of unhappy laughter.<br>Like a child eavesdropping, he peered around the corner. He wasn't sure what he had expected but it certainly wasn't Hermione Granger. Especially not with a bottle of Bubbly WitchWine almost sloshing onto her muggle party dress.  
>"Your behavior is an abomination to the virtuous female gender, young lady. I insist that you retreat back to your chambers and study your Bible." Berated the late 1800's Barron's Wife portrait.<br>"I dare say I shall not Beatrice. I don't care much for your rebukes. Don't be a twat."  
>Before he could stop himself, Draco was laughing. He had never heard that kind of language come from this previously thought pompous girl. Hermione whipped around in what she thought was a quick manner but in actuality was clumsy and awkward.<br>"What do you want, Slytherin?" There was a bite in her tone that stung him.  
>"I thought we were past this." She took a chug of her bottle and slumped to the floor instead of replying. Draco examined her current physical state. He was intrigued by the party dress. The testosterone in him flared up at the sight of her in such a provocative gown. The dress was a fierce strawberry red with lace and shiny stuff on it. As anyone could imagine, that wasn't what interested him, it was the suggestive neckline and the view of her long legs. His eyes traveled all the way down to her feet.<br>"Granger?" She rolled her head to the side letting that brown curtain of hair unveil her face. Her large doe eyes looked sorrowful under the dullness.  
>"Where are your shoes?" She pointed at the end of the hall. Feeling it was his responsibility to take care of the intoxicated prefect, he went in search for them. A reflection alerted him to where her obnoxious stilettos were. <em>What would possess her, or anyone, to where these?<em> But then the image of the last Slytherin party flashed in his mind. Let's just say that his appreciation for the way they could shape legs was vast.  
>He slid down across from her. Sitting next to her was a position for friends, he didn't pretend he had that right. However, he would stay for at least awhile to enjoying the images of a hardass breaking the rules. He wished his curiosity for what caused her to break the rules came from a concerned part of him, but he was really just curious. He figured that Hermione was a lite weight due to her lack of exposure to alcohol considering that WitchWine had a fairly low alcohol content. Draco watched her take another glug. <em>Should I be stopping her?<em>

"You know when you know something, a fact, but your brain doesn't want to accept it, so it spins the truth around with lies and the you don't know if something is real or not. Like trying to remember if something actually happened or if you dreamt it."

If he had been looking at her instead of the English women's surly expression, he would have seen a tear quickly run down her face, leaving an invisible path on her porcelain face.

"Malfoy. No. Draco. I like Draco, it's a name that holds a meaning. It's strong. Draco. The number of this month, day… The number of the day, what is it?" That struck him as an odd question but he decided to play along.

"It's November 20th."

In a hazy daze she mumbled. " Twenty… Twenty… November the twentieth." Like a switch flipping she was alive again. Angry.

"No it's not. You're lying. Stop lying Draco. It's not an attractive quality in a person."

"What does it matter what day it is?"

"Don't you know? How could you not know? Is this not important to anyone?" Hermione's voice was rising in volume. "I don't care how you do it, just make time in your day! Why is dying the only thing that gets your attention!"

Replenishing her bottle and barely securing her shoes on her feet she somehow got her feet under her and walked off. Draco sat there for a minute contemplating his difficult decision. To follow her or to not follow her was the question. He had this feeling in his gut that wasn't going to let her wander around the castle in this condition.

Hey let me know what you guys think. Again, sorry for the delay.


	5. The Morning Of

Cure for the Depressed: Chapter 5

He stood up and out of habit smoothed his slacks, the rituals installed by his mother seared into his head. The darkened hallway had an aura of light coming from the tip of Hermione's wand. In a drunken haze, Hermione plopped her way along, seriously putting her ankles in jeopardy from the death shoes she was walking in. Forcing himself, he called out. "Granger. Where are you going?"

She spun around. "Malfoy? Why are you here?" So much for the first name thing. He laughed a little laugh to himself, struck with irony that he was here in this particular situation.

"I don't know. I'm thinking you should get back to your friends." Without a hint of mirth, she immediately replied "I don't have any friends." Hermione looked him straight in the eyes but then she glazed over.

"Food. Where's food? I'm SO hungry." Like a child, she rubbed her hands into her eye sockets. Draco thought in her sedated state it would be safe to move close."Why don't we go find a place to sit down." He directed it more as a command than a question. Although she didn't reply when he began moving, she followed him down the quiet hallway.

While the two solemnly walked together, Draco noticed her thin legs and boney wrists; her veins added topography to her arms in almost a sickly looking way. He lead her to one of the empty Charms classrooms where she swiftly fell into a chair.

Usually, She looked very natural in the desk chair, mostly because that's where he always saw her, but tonight… It was different. Draco had never thought of her in a different light than the one he always put her in. But as he watched her staring at the grooves chipped into the desk part of her chair, with her party dress riding up, bottle of alcohol resting in her lap and thin arms shivering in the cool of the night, he couldn't help but think that just maybe there was someone behind the label he gave her. While she was in her own world he checked his wand, surprised that it passed to 2:30am already. Despite the little moment that he was having, he needed to get back to his room. I really need to not be here. He thought again of his curfew and pursed his lips in concern. Although the part of himself that told him to watch out for his own skin was waving it's red flag in his head, the Slyntherinesk curiosity was itching to know all of her secrets. Deciding that pushing her to her maddest would give him plenty of information, he pried.

"What about November twentieth means something?" His eyes squinted, prepared to study her every micro-movement for information. What he was not expecting was to see her unfold in front of him. Hermione Granger was passion. She was unwavering, pesky allegiance that would make it as easy as one comment to spin her head off. Hell, she was the one who was willing to punch him. Deep down, he always respected her for that even though it was completely unfair that he wasn't able to retaliate blows. But instead of this, her shoulder shook and crystal like tears fell off her face and dripped onto the half-empty bottle in her lap. Her cries echoed around the dead room making Draco as equally anxious about discovery as he was unprepared for this situation.

"Hey." He said forcefully after throwing a quick soundproof spell against the wall. "Stop that." Bollocks. "Just call for your nancy boys to deal with this." In a swift motion, the seemingly fragile girl sprang up as if she was the fire created when gasoline met a spark. The lines of makeup on her eyelids were smudged adding to the wild crazy look she was sporting. "They don't fucking know anything!" She horsely shouted. Clenching

the neck of the bottle from when she had gotten up, before Draco could understand what she was doing, she lifted her arm and pitched the bottle down against the floor. Shattering, the glass exploded on contact while the liquid pooled around her shoes. Heaving from anger, Hermione lifted her arm to see a trail of blood forming from a minor piece stuck in her arm.

Draco was still processing what she had done when he noticed what she was staring at. "Granger. You're bleeding." No response. He furrowed his eyebrows at this demented behavior.

"Granger. Heal that, it's dripping on the floor." Slowly she pulled the piece of glass out and dropped it to the floor but didn't do anything else. Angrily, he pulled his wand out and with a flourish of his wrist the mess on the floor was gone. Another one and the wound gradually closed up, leaving a pink mark of irritated skin left along with the trail of blood, the color of her dress, staining her arm. Without a word, she shakily stepped around Draco and left through the door, leaving a bewildered Draco.

—

Hermione had woken up with a trail of vomit adjacent to her head on the toilet. She remembered laying in her bed not able to fall asleep and then clench after clench of her stomach regurgitating in revolt of the alcohol consumed. Her stomach was very sensitive to these kinds of things. Unfortunately, it was not her first experience like this. She fell into this crowd after her release from Walter Memorial Therapeutic Care Center, or "Walt Mem." as the regulars called it, who experimented with all sorts of things. Somehow she still had on the shoes that she had worn last night which were the first to go. Despite cautiously standing up, she still had that funny feeling in her stomach and knees that also gave her tunnel vision. A second after that passed, she made her way to the counter to lightly brush her teeth and wash the smeared makeup off. Holding onto the countertop to support her, she waited to see if she would dry heave some more. Luckily that passed giving her the motivation to strip the dress off and hunch into the shower. While there was more standing than scrubbing, it was still effective. Hermione's mind was thoughtless; just a black void loudly processing the feeling of the warm water tapping down on her shoulders.

It wasn't long until her body was tired from the standing and she turned it off. Too fatigued to do much else, she walked past the empty beds to her dresser and grabbed a large shirt. Still wet, she pulled it on against the resistance of the now damp shirt. Hermione crept into bed, feeling completely satisfied at laying still. The sun was definitely in the sky today because the beams were coming into the room strongly. Hermione knew that she was supposed to be up at breakfast but that seemed to be such a small transparent fact in comparison to how she felt at the moment. Hermione was unwilling to let the life happening outside effect the still world that she had created for herself in her bed. In fact, she didn't care one bit about missing classes. Inside somewhere she knew that she was supposed too but that felt like it was more mental muscle memory than actual caring. Instead of thinking, she appreciated the way the light came in and seemed to gracefully land on surfaces. She passed several minutes just staring at the wooden beams and bolts that were illuminated. On a random rabbit trail, Hermione was reminded of last night. The party was a haze of meaningless small talk from girls, pitiful advances from guys and drink upon drink of alcohol. Rotating her head and pulling the wet slab of hair away from her cheek, Hermione checked her right arm to see the inch long pink stretched skin. She remembered Malfoy asking about the day and healing her. It felt like a different person who said and did those things and because of that, she didn't care. She didn't care about any of it actually. Not a damn thing.

It felt like she was hollowed out inside. Checking her wand, she confirmed what she knew in the deep folds of her mind. It was November 21st. It was the anniversary of her brother's death. And with that she fell asleep.

—

Hermione didn't remember waking up, just having a small burning sensation in her left arm. Blinking her eyes to focus, she found her arm to remember why it was burning. MUDBLOOD stared at her in imperfect scratchy handwriting. That moment in her life, being tortured in the Malfoy Manor… Don't think about that. She shoved all of the emotions that came attached to that deep down again, leaving an unpleasant crawling feeling in her skin.

She decided that she could not stay in this room one minute longer. Her wand said that it was 2:34pm. Her mind seemed to be filtering out any information that she didn't seem to care for and in the next minute she was closing the door to the Gryffindor Tower. Without really making up her mind, she made her way to the kitchen. She had woken up with a headache and her hands were shaking. Tickling the pear, she slipped into the kitchen. Several elves in plain garments were cleaning the counters and pots while several others were tending to the foods that required hours of cooking. It was not long before she was noticed and attended too. Only accepting a cup of tea and a toasted bagel, she sat and elf-watched.

Hermione was contemplating how in the world that these nutters enjoyed this kind of work; it was near impossible to believe that this life filled their life. On the other hand, she wished that she could be this easy to please. Soon she was on her way, walking out the main doors. It was chillier than she would have expected because it was warm and cozy in the castle it gave no indication of the actual weather. The grounds, usually gorgeous, were in the death cycle where everything was dead or dying before it was coated in snow. Her long sleeved shirt no longer felt comfortable and she crossed her arms to conserve any heat at all. She wanted to be alone but she saw that there was a couple of people down by the lake. They began walking up towards the castle. As the two pairs moved closer, she realized that it was Harry and Ron. Her heart twisted in it's cavity.

Step step step, they got closer and closer. Hermione's lips were numb and her hair was tangling in itself, stirring in the wind. She made direct eye contact with Harry as they passed, wanting to see if he was going to say anything. Out of her peripheral, she could see Ron awkwardly looking back and forth between each other. It was a few steps after they had tersely passed, that Ron called out to her, "Hermione-" Harry tried to cut him off but Ron pushed on. "I know you weren't in classes today but you shouldn't skip the therapy session. McGonagall announced that it was a month long detention for anyone who didn't have a ligament excuse." With that, he turned around and the two left. She could see the two exchanging heated words; Harry giving him grief for not joining in their standoff, she assumed. Standing still for another minute, she debated if it was worth it. Sighing, she turned around and walked back up the stairs.


	6. Heart On Her Sleeve

Heart On Her Sleeve - Chapter 6

When she got to the room used for the session, she realized that she was in skinny jeans, cotton V neck and TOMS, not the school uniform. _Whatever_. Walking in, she saw heads turning in confusion that Hermione was not following all of the rules possible leading her to resent her own her reputation. They all formed a circle while Daisy was trying to engage the other students in conversation.

"Good morning everyone" Daisy started in her high pitched breathy way. "How is everyone doing today?" *Mumble mumble mumble* She grinned none the less. "Okay then. Healing is a very painful process. The first step is to acknowledge that the pain exists. Pain has a way of demanding to be felt and ignoring it will only lengthen the process." She paused a minute to let that sink in with the audience. Nobody visibly responding to what she had said. Susan Bones was picking at a peeling section of her shoes, Cormac was zoned out staring at the wall with his mouth open and stupid look on his face and Cho was admiring her fingernails.

"To start us off, we are going to go around the circle and say who we lost in the war. I'll start. I lost my brother and aunt during the last month of the war. They were killed by a raid of death eater supporters in New Haven." She paused for a moment, honoring their death, then turned to Stephen so that he could continue. The atmosphere of the room had changed. He raised his hands to brush his buzz cut hair.

"I lost my sister." The room was very quiet, everyone reflecting on their own grief. "She was kidnapped and then killed because she was a half-blood. We adopted her when she was little and that's why they didn't take me." His voice trailed off. Student by student they went around the room, the number of dead racking up. It was hard for Hermione to speak all of the names of the past loved ones. She had the longest list of everyone: Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Lavender Brown, Severus Snape, Colin Creevey, Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, Amelia Bones, Albus Dumbledore and Dobby.

The curious thing in the circle was Malfoy. It looked like he wasn't going to answer as he stared Daisy straight in the eyes. But he eventually broke contact to find a spot on the wall and monotonously listed six names. Snape, his father and Crabbe were all on the list but he acted as if he didn't care. Hermione could smell the coping mechanism from a mile away even though they weren't that far apart. She gazed at his posture, it was very upright and coiled with thinly veiled tension. His shoulders were pulled back, lengthening his rigid spine. The black buttons on his uniform dress robes reflected the light raining in from the open windows; his hands rested un-movingly on his knees. For the first time she looked at him without looking for the flaws, she wanted to see what was there out of genuine curiosity. She began to notice things that she hadn't cared to see before. For instance, he was very still. From what she knew of his background, he was a social elitist. That probably included going to many boring events that a teenager would not want to attend so maybe he had to learn how to be disciplined in his body language. His childhood oppressions appeared in his put-together-ness: the finely clipped hair, clean nails, polished shoes and so on.

Intellectually, Hermione could evaluate his life and almost sympathize with it but emotionally she was still angry at everything he put them through. It is easier to be a bully to someone than it is to open up and reach out to them. Did Hermione always want to be nice to the hopeless and awkward Neville? No, she didn't, but it was against her moral code to mistreat another human soul like that.

Hermione was still reflecting on Malfoy when Cho Chang finished the list of dead. Hermione respected Cho Chang's ability to hold in the tears over listing Cedric. She guessed the Cho felt like she was in love with Cedric, maybe she had primary school notions that they would stay in love and marry later in life, but since Hermione had never experienced something like that she couldn't judge the depth of pain Cho felt. Glancing at the clock, Hermione calculated that they still had forty five minutes left in the period.

Daisy said words of consolation as a prelude to the next activity. "Although there are many moments before their death, most remember people the way in which they were taken away. Today, I want you to pair up and pick a few things about one of the dear ones that you lost and share that. Then we will go around and repeat what we gathered and any comments on that." Mary Ann raised her hand to ask if she was assigning the partners. "Yes, I am. I chose couples that I speculated would benefit from the other. Cho with Seamus, Mary Ann and Cormac, Susan to Stephan, leaving Hermione and Draco." Hermione saw a raised eyebrows coming from Susan at their pair but Hermione just didn't care. No shits to give. Getting up and moving over to where Malfoy was in sync with the other relocating students, she slowly eased down in front of him. She let a small moment pass before she carelessly asked, "Who's your person?" Instead of answering, Draco ignored her and twisted the attention back to her. "Who had to die to get attention?" If he had been a close friend that she knew genuinely cared about her and her happiness, then maybe Hermione would have considered revealing her dark secret, but certainly not to Draco Malfoy in a mandated group therapy led by Queen of the Feel Good Magic.

"Not today." She warned him.

"What, is this the day that the beastly red-headed moron broke up with you?" In the intellectual sparring, she kept her cool and retaliated.

"My friendship with Harry and Ron are the only things you know about me, isn't it? Sad, really. We've been living up the same roof for almost seven years and you know nothing; what does that say about you? Oh wait, I shouldn't try to talk about morality with a Slytherin."

"You think you're so clever. I am the one that found you utterly sloshed last night and found it in myself to not report you. Also for this." He reached over and twisted her arm palm forward to expose the newly acquire scar of hers. However, he pulled on the wrong arm and instead the word MUDBLOOD stared up at him. In this proximity, he saw a healed line of scar tissue perfectly cutting through the word. Draco knew that a cut like that would result in intense blood loss. Blinded by anguish and hatred, she glanced down to her marked arm then back up to his unguarded expression and asked, "Do I have this to thank you for too?"

"Do not blame that on me." A dark black feeling dripped into his heart with the thought that she held him accountable for that moment.

"Just wondering what to expect from someone related to someone who could do this." She stretched out her arm to force him to look at what she had to every day. He submitted to her dominance and closed his eyes, shielding himself away from the memory attached to her arm.

"Just checking that we've picked out person to talk about." Daisy's round clear face appeared at eye level, peering into their conversation like a mom.

"Yeah, I picked Fred Weasley." She lied.

"And I, Crabbe." Malfoy filled in.

"Wonderful! Continue on." Daisy floated onto the next group.

"So, tell me about Crabbe."

The session was a nice distraction from Hermione's reality but after Hermione and Malfoy got along for the first time, she slunk away in the direction of her room. Or at least she tried to but was stopped by a student who reported McGonagall's wishes to see her in the office. Hermione sighed. She just wanted to go back to her room and fall out of consciousness instead she was going to go deal with a harangue. She slowly schleped down the halls, stopping periodically to study a painting, just filling her mind with observations. There was another period or two of classes before the school day was over so the hallways were mostly empty. Some of her classmates had empty periods while other students were running down the hallway to take a lavatory break. Sometimes she forgot how majestic the castle's insides were; living within the walls you think about how many kids just trampled over everything. Laughing, screaming, running, crying, giggling, yelling, groaning, chattering, gossiping, frolicking and deceitfulness, it all wisps around on the inside and leaves the building unaffected. She used to be one of those partakers but now she felt hollowed out on the inside; as if she was a papier-mâché piñata filled with cotton-stuffing. Soon she was at the large statue signaling the staircase to carry her to the office. Her steps were soft and near weightless as they landed on the floor. Her head was mildly throbbing with a headache. She knew that if she could just lay down, the uneasy feeling in her stomach would go away. Instead, she stepped up the faded gold colored stairs.

As Hermione expected, McGonagall was behind the desk with a stack of parchment unrolled in front of her sitting straight up in the chair

donned in eggplant purple colored robes. The object that was out of order in this recently decluttered office was a calculator placed at the edge of the desk.

"Miss Granger, have a seat." Only for a moment did the headmaster look up before continuing her train of thought on the parchment. Placing her quill back into the ink bottle, McGonagall addressed the young female silently awaiting her attention.

"Your parents have requested that I pardon you for the rest of the day to join them for a visit to the cemetery for the anniversary of your brother's death. I have accepted, especially since you were not attending this morning classes anyways, which I'm sure is a sign of your bereavement and will not be repeated again." McGonagall paused for confirmation to which Hermione nodded her head not caring if she was going to become a liar. "This calck-yoou-laatER will take you into your parent's backyard which has been concealed from the muggle neighbors for safety purposes. It will be active in thirty minutes and again at ten o'clock for you to return. If you are not at breakfast tomorrow, someone will be sent to retrieve you and the consequences will not be pleasant so I do not advice it." Granger nodded, already knowing that she would not stay a minute longer if she didn't have too.

McGonagall paused allowing Hermione a moment to say anything if she pleased, honestly surprised by the women she saw in front of her today. She was too thin and rough around the edges. Her hair was throne up into a careless limp pony-tail which almost resembled her deflated sort of personality. She had dark circles around her eyes and stretched skin around her once plumb cheeks and lips. Her skin color also seemed diminished as if she was more sick than healthy.

"Okay, you are dismissed." Hermione rose and only stopped walking out of the room when McGonagall called out her name.

"I am sorry for the loss of your brother. I hope that this won't defeat you." Hermione turned around and tried to send an appreciative smile back at her beloved professor but her face felt like it was being stretched uncomfortably. Wordlessly, she slipped out in a smaller form than the one she walked in with.

Hermione popped into her old backyard to see that the manicured lawn had not changed a bit. The stone bird fountain was still dirt free and sprinkling water onto birds that were taking advantage of the effortless water supply. Wishing she could linger longer, Hermione stepped inside the french styled glass doors into the wide, open model-looking home. The furniture was classically tasted with coffee tables and coasters sprinkled with decorative throw pillows and cashmere blankets.

"Hermione. Welcome home." Her mother said as if her daughter walking through the back door was an every day occurrence not as if she had been gone for several months.

"Mother, hello."

"Well come over here and give me a hug." In accordance to her command, Hermione moved over to her mother and hugged her. She felt her mother give her a little squeeze then quickly released her.

"Your Father is in his study. Why don't you go say hello before everyone else shows up. You're going to change right?"

"Everyone else?" That comment took Hermione by surprise even though it is what she expect from a socialite like her mother. Hermione knew that everyone grieved in their own way but there was too much raw emotion near the surface for her to see past her parents cold and, bordering on indifferent, attitude.

"We're having over some family and friends for the memorial gathering in honor of Dominic. What did you think was happening today?" Sandra Granger had a bold bob cut that framed her black hair around her heart-shaped face. Excluding the hair, Hermione looked very similar to her mother. Same straight button nose, sprinkling of freckles along the upper cheeks, naturally pink cheeks and expressive golden brown eyes. Sandra walked over to the bar counter that separate the kitchen from the living room and opened the sleek laptop that was there. Quickly, her mother was absorbed in email and communication would be deteriorated to one word answers if Hermione even tried. She knew better though and turned to go find her father when her mother addressed her once more.

"I laid a dress on your bed for you to wear." A wave of disappointment had hit Hermione at the interaction but that last comment just grated on her nerves. Hermione could feel the rage ballooning inside of her but she walked away instead. Fights with her mother were either vicious affairs or condescending dismissals.

Hermione had received at least a 'welcome home' from her father but that was about it. Closing the door to his study to leave him and his many papers inside was muscle memory for Hermione. Hermione inherited the serious mind set from both her parents and that's why Dominic was such a blessing because he was all laughs and smiles. He was the one that convinced them all to go trick-or-treating and to watch movies all together. He was their lynch-pin. Hermione softly stepped up the black marble staircase to the smaller upstairs quarters. First thing was a smaller entertainment room that fed into a hallway with three rooms and a bathroom attached. She stopped at the top of the stairs and closed her eyes. Throughout the entire house the only thing she could hear was her mother typing at her machine and Hermione's own breathing. In that moment, she was aware of all the empty space around her.

Moving away from the stairs she continued onto the last bedroom on the left. Everything inside the house was considered Sandra territory. Hermione had once hung up a magical poster only to return to her room hours later with it removed. She knew that if she talked to her mother about it, Sandra would have said that it was inappropriate and didn't match her color scheme. Modern, expensive looking housing were filled with basic, lifeless colors. This was so nothing distracted from the remarkable vastness of any given room. To Sandra Granger, this was a religion. That is why Hermione was not surprised when everything in her room had changed from Hermione's favorite color scarlet to white and grey. The only splash of anything different was a simple but serious looking dress on the bed. Anger ripped through her insides and fire burned in her chest. _How dare she change my room_. Breathing deeply, Hermione went to check Dominic's room just in case. As the stuffy air from his room whoosed in her face at the opening of his door, her anger dissipated like liquid down a drain. Every single object was the exact same. There was even an empty cup on the bedside table that was probably once full of water. Like a film covering her eyes, the ghost image of her brother appeared. Sitting in the corner, she could see him playing with his toys. An action figure with a sword stuck in his hand laid forgotten on the carpet. Closing the door behind her, Hermione retreated back to her room. Grief replaced the blood in her veins and it sunk her to her feet. Her mother's clacking keys filled her mind in a numb nothing.

After what must have been ten minutes of staring at the wall, she heard a knocking hand at the front door. Soft sympathetic voices bobbed up the landing to where Hermione sat in the hallway.

_Oh Dominic_, she thought, _I never thought any of this would happen_.

"He had the sweetest little face."

"So smart too."

"The world really is a lesser place without him here."

"I could already see him growing up and taking over for your father."

"I miss having him over to play with William."

"What a nice kid."

"How is boarding school?"

"How are your grades fairing?"

"We miss our son. We're just doing our best to move on from the unfortunate accident."

Draco was walking through the empty halls of the ground floor when a familiar pop sound caught his attention. Within a millisecond of the sound, a figure appeared. He was looking at the silhouette of a women. Curly hair, floor length black dress that from his angle made the women look razor thin. Her bird-like arms were covered in a lace pattern from her wrists to her shoulders; also black. Draco stepped forward to identify the woman although in the back of his mind, he already knew. He hadn't stepped out from the shadows when she turned around. From the small clutch in her left hand, she drew her wand.

"Who are you and why are you watching me?" Yes, it was definitely Granger.

"Calm down, it's only me." He identified himself. Surprisingly, she lowered the weapon pointed at him immediately.

"What are you doing down here?" Her tone was cautious, like she wasn't sure how she should react.

"I could ask the same thing. Taking an evening stroll in your formal muggle dress? Did someone finally take you on a proper date?" Her shoulders were slumped which did no favors to her figure. Instead of retaliating, she sighed. "Not tonight." Draco opened his mouth but before he could say anything, she added, "Please." He simply nodded in her direction. Their eyes met for several seconds. Draco was captivated. He was used to seeing her eyes ablaze with indignation, but hers were… just eyes staring back at him. They were filled with no emotions. Like he said, Hermione was passion. This was not Hermione. She turned and walked away from him looking purposeless. Draco moved to stand in the space she had just been in and looked down. There were two red drops on the floor.

One of the most frustrating things about Malfoy is that she couldn't figure him out. She was so tired. The buzz of noise at her parent's house had followed her home and vibrated in her head. Unsure of where she was going, the hallways passed her by in an unusual fashion. Similar to an Alice-in-Wonderland scene, the walls would stretch to stare down at her from miles high. The lace sleeves on her dress were uncomfortable, like having dozens of little tags poking into her skin. Her thoughts were a slow swirl of words dancing through her mind. Distracted, she bumped into the wall which caused the open wound on her arm to pulsate angrily; gushing more blood out.

Hermione tried to remember when she had done that. _Maybe after her mother's speech, maybe before. Did it really matter? No was the answer._ It was at that moment that Hermione realized why the walls were moving, not because of magic but because she was hallucinating. She just wanted this day to be over. Slinking back into the nearest corner, Hermione plopped down and waited for the dizziness to abate. From her clutch she withdrew a razor blade. Taking a deep breath to prepare her for the sting, she pressed down through her dress on her left arm.

Yes, he had followed her. He did it without much thought, preferring to not think about what the connotations were. He rounded the corner to see that Hermione had disappeared. Before he could take another step, something glinted in the far corner. Without delay, he eliminated the distance and crouched down to pluck the blade from her hand.

"Don't you have enough scars?" Hermione's shocked eyes darted all over his face, trying to process his quick movements. Once her brain caught up, her face hardened.

"Haven't you given me enough?" Her comment stung. Here he was trying to help her when he had no reason too. She was making him deal with her messes by going and being an emotional disaster. If she wasn't such enigma then he wouldn't have had to suss out her story. Especially because his social calendar was lacking as of late, he needed some form of entertainment. _Forget her._ He dropped the blade on the ground and returned to standing. If she was going to act like this, he would just remove himself. Hermione gripped the wall to help her stand up, just to yell at him from an upright position, no doubt. However once had, she lost her angry stare. Her already pale skin lost all color and her eyes closed. Knees buckled as she fainted, on top of Draco. If it wasn't for his Quidditch reflexes she would have toppled both of them over.

"Granger?" Draco was tapping her cheek, trying to get some reaction. She would probably wake up in a minute but if Draco brought in an unconscious Granger, he would be killed. Acting through shock, he levitated her over to the closest classroom. The only available space was the floor because the desk was only four feet long; Granger was short, but not that short. Next, he found the arm that she had cut. Blood leaked off of her arm onto the floor. This cut appeared to be more superficial but it was still bleeding. He healed her for the second time this month, wondering if there would be a third.

AN: Hey, this is a little rough. I'll come back and smooth over some of the rougher parts. I'm trying to keep the story alive though! Reviews would help encourage me for another chapter if I haven't lost you with this one. :)


	7. A Warm Fire

"Did you know that you could bleed out in at least thirty minutes if you cut vertically."

"Mmm. That's interesting. Why would you think it was relevant to me?" Hermione sat with her legs crossed on the floor in the therapy classroom. Malfoy was staring her down. He reminded her of one of her CPS (Child Protective Services) mandated therapists; scanning her face for micro-reactions that would unravel her deepest secrets. Her new scar had already subsided to a thin cream line that was only a shade different than her regular sun-depleted skin. The two had been paired again for individual discussions. The discussion of the day was fears, however, Malfoy had found a way to link everything back to the incident four days ago.

"Have you still been cutting?" He spoke his words confidently, there was no pause or hesitance. Most people said it like a dirty word but he said it as a clinical fact.

"It's none of your business" She spat, eyes narrowing in a defensive anger.

"What if it is?" Hermione was distracted by Malfoy's edgy cheekbones. They ran together to compose the nose, prominent on his face, like a bow leading a ship. His eyes hid under his brow; brightness contrasting against the shadows and peaks of his face.

"Alright everybody, that's it for today." Daisy sung out. "Any parting remarks?" Mary Ann raised her hand.

"When is the next meeting?"

"Ah, yes. Good question. We will be meeting next Wednesday. Be prepared to participate in open discussion." As soon as they were dismissed, Hermione darted out. She sensed him before she heard him.

"Did you know that one pint of blood can save up to three lives." Malfoy trailed right behind her. "All that blood you're spilling could be used for people who actually want to live."

"How would you even know that?" Hermione asked, trying to divert attention from herself.

"Because I'm smarter than you, that's why." Malfoy broke off from his stalker trail to go down a different path, probably towards Transfiguration. Hermione stood in the middle of the hall, confused at his behavior. Why was he acting like… he cared? But still being insensitive… If that was a way it could be described. She fingered the cut that he had healed, pondering.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For the first time in awhile, Hermione was at lunch. She sat next to some of the girls that were in her room. They tried to engage her in discussion but she was unwilling to participate. So she sat there and listened to their conversation, feeling invisible. There was some watermelon she was eyeing but landed with some chicken instead. About five small bites in, she developed a weird feeling in her stomach. Uncertainty was settling in while she grabbed her bag and dashed off to the bathroom. She got to the sink when the food came back up. Cold sweats glistened on her forehead while her hands went cold.

Despite that, she laid her head on the edge of the cool counter. Shakily she turned the water on, washing down the vomit so she didn't have to look at it. After a round of dry heaving, she left to slowly walk back to her room. She felt like death and didn't make eye contact with anyone. Climbing in her bed had never felt better. The whole experience had left her exhausted meaning she was asleep in minutes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was noise that woke her up. Laughing, the clack of shoes, whispered gossip… must be her roommates. They must have seen her stirring because one of them called out, "Oh sorry, Hermione! Didn't mean to wake you. It's time for dinner, would you like to come with us?"

"I'm gonna stay here." Hermione tried to give her a smile. Mary Elisabeth was trying so hard to include her. Hermione felt as if there was an impenetrable fog between her and everyone else. In a part of her mind, she was angry that no one was trying harder. Didn't they see that she was in pain? Miserable? Horribly and terrifyingly alone?

Well now she was awake. There was no feeling of hunger in her stomach at all. Lingering on her lack of happiness, her mood turned sour. Sulking, she rolled out of bed and turned to the mirror. Her appearance left much to be desired. Disinterestedly she stared at herself. After pulling her once thick hair into a limp pony tail, she felt a little better. Her face was oily, her eyebrows needed to be plucked, nails trimmed and her clothes were grimy. What she really needed was a shower.

For once she had that motivation. One minute she was standing there naked, the next her skin was burning under the water she had let get too hot. Her hand hesitated over the faucet. Pain signals were lighting up her brain, urging her to move, react, but she stood there and let it burn. Maybe something could reach her, make her care.

Then she was walking down the hallway. She felt like her life was under a strobe lights, missing every other moment. Her mind knew what to do from memory muscle. That's why she was surprised to find herself up on the eighth floor instead of the Great Hall. She didn't care though. She never seemed too anymore.

It was twenty minutes later of mindless walking when she saw that she was not alone in this particular hallway. Hermione was going to turn around and slip away when the person lifted their head. It was Malfoy.

"We've got to stop meeting like this." He gave a dry humorless laugh. His legs were straight out in front of him, school robe pooling on the floor. He looked no more disheveled than usual, which meant every hair was in place, but there was a look in his eyes that stopped her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

(Draco's POV)

"Why aren't you at dinner?" She asked him. Staring straight ahead, he held up the opened letter in his hand.

"I got a late post." Draco picked apart the stone wall pattern in the wall. He had hoped it would be her. There was no one else in here that interested him. There was a secret hiding under her poorly crafted facade. Like a true Slytherin, he believed determination and craftiness would get him what he wanted. What Draco wanted now was answers, however, now was not the time.

"Do you often take to dark empty hallways?" Hermione watched him while she asked, running her fingers across the wall.

"Only when my dad dies." He wasn't entirely sure why he said that. It was a new concept to him to say whatever was on his mind. It felt wrong. His father was probably laughing in his grave, not that he was in one yet. Draco turned to look at Hermione to see her reaction, expecting to see relief or happiness to hear of his father's death. When he met her eyes however he saw…. empathy. Not the pity riddled sympathy but empathy as in she knew this pain.

Hermione moved over and slowly sat down next to him. Shocked, he stayed very still, not wanting to accidentally touch her at all. What was she doing? Was she out of her mind?

"It's surprising how much it hurts, isn't it? Losing someone." Granger faced the wall and her expression was blank. Resentful and angry words were on the tip of his tongue but he held them in. If he said them, she would storm off. For once, he was going to let himself enjoy this moment, this guilty pleasure of his. He was not supposed to be friends with the mudblood. Not that he was friends but imagine how much that would piss off his father... Oh yeah.

"Don't stay because you pity me." He said quietly but with a sharpness.

"I'm not." She replied. He let that hang in the air for a minute before he spoke again.

"Who did you lose?"

"That's not a story for today." Her tone left no room for discussion. Silence fell on the pair of grieving students. For them, the world evaporated and nothing existed past the hallway. They sat for a long time, the concrete hurt their butts but neither one said anything. It felt like Draco thought about everything while he was sitting there. The death of his father was an end of an era for him. It was a time of tyranny and having no opinion. Draco no longer had to be the soldier in his father's mission. He was finally free to shape his own future.

The responsibility felt over whelming. Not wanting to feel that burden, he switched to thinking of his mother. He wondered what she was feeling and if she would want to discuss her thoughts with him. Probably not. Draco tried to comprehend how losing your partner in life might feel.

Lastly, he thought of Hermione. He tried to understand her intentions for her actions. Draco peeked a glance to his left, where she was sitting. He noticed her button nose. Even in this lighting, he could see her freckles decorating her face. Her eyes hid under her drooping eyelids. She looked tired. Not, I've-had-a-long-day tired but I've-had-a-long-year tired. There were premature wrinkles under her eyes and her skin was gaunt. Her collarbone protruded from her shoulders in a painful looking manner. She needed sun, sleep, food. Wasn't there someone to take care of her?

Granger had felt his gaze and turned her head to meet his eyes. It was as if they were actually looking at each other for the first time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco's POV

It became a ritual. After dinner they would meet up and just sit together, usually wordlessly. They two observed the changes in each other. Five days later, Friday, they were sitting there like usual when Hermione suddenly informed Draco that she wanted a couch. So they set off for the Room of Requirement. Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was opening the door to a small room with a gentle fire inviting them in. The walls were surrounded in bookcases filled with novels. On the left was the fireplace and a very comfortable looking couch, complete with extra decorative pillows and a throw blanket on the edge. On the right side was one of the tables that matched the ones in the library, traditional brown square table with two chairs. Hermione bee-lined to the fireplace and held her hands out to the warmth. She was always in long sleeves and a coat. It was winter, granted, but she was always cold. She chalked it up to poor circulation.

Breaking the silence, Draco said, "I'm not surprised that the room you conjure is filled with books." While in the past that would have been an insult, now it was said gently. She seemed more fragile than she had in the past. He still wasn't sure what was going on but if he didn't try to define it, he could accept it. These evenings relaxed him. There was something so healing about just sitting with another person. None of the girlfriends he had dated could sit longer than two minutes without saying something. Of course that wasn't why Draco dated them. The other differences is that both of them had survived a war. A streak of light flashed behind his eyes as he remembered that night at the Manor. Hermione hadn't just survived a war, she survived so much more. His aunt for one. These past days stripped away presumptions he had made about her the past years. He saw her strength. Draco had been labeled as a coward, rightly so, by his family. Being in her presence humbled him. In addition, she had lost so many more loved ones than he had, if that doesn't say something about the Malfoys.

Draco wished he had known her during a different period because then he could have compared her past behavior to her current and see the discrepancies. Nothing was the way it should have been this year, some of that was his fault too. Hermione wasn't the way that she should be either.

Before he got a chance to sit down, Hermione grabbed the couch and scooted it closer to the fireplace. The couch turned out to be more of a love seat so when they sat, it was right next to each other. Staring at the fire turned out to be much more pleasant than the wall pattern. The two were both very comfortable and the cares of the world melted away.

Probably an hour had passed when Draco broke his trance to look at Hermione. Somewhere along the past few days Granger became Hermione, he wasn't sure when it had happened. He saw that she was asleep on her hand. However she twitched and woke up. He felt a pang of pity for her. The last thing she needed was for her sleep to be interrupted.

"Go to your dorm." Hermione was still groggy when he spoke. Eyes half closed, she shook her head like a child. She slung one of the end pillows onto his lap and lay her head down before he could stop her. With his hands up in the air, he just looked at her in bewilderment. She fidgeted once but stayed in her curled up position. Draco had seen her earlier at lunch. Every time he saw her was a shock. She looked terminally ill some days. So instead of pushing her off, he grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over her. Next he accio'd some of the books from the fiction section behind him until he found one that he would be willing to read and settled himself in for the evening.


End file.
